


I heard your heart beating slightly faster over the words

by TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Season/Series 02, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Stiles Stilinski Helps Derek Hale, implied competent alpha Derek Hale, no gerard argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 17:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15369468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving/pseuds/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving
Summary: All Stiles can think about is how meeting Derek’s red eyes had made the world goquiet





	I heard your heart beating slightly faster over the words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icarusinflight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a short story about Stiles asking Derek for the bite and then help him become a competent alpha... somehow that didn't happen, like, _at all_ *frustrated noises*
> 
> Embarrassingly long ago the amazing [icarusinflight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight/pseuds/icarusinflight) made a generous offer over at [Fandom cares](http://fandomcares.tumblr.com/).   
> I apologize for being infinitely slow, but I hope you'll enjoy this story anyway.
> 
> As always: kudos, comments and constructive comments welcome.   
> This is unbetaed so feel free to point out glaring mistakes and missing tags.

_I’m the alpha now_ , the ethereal quality to Derek’s voice as he says it resonates within Stiles; it almost feels as if a part of him - something vital and up until this point unknown – is reaching out towards him, responding not only to the words but the way Derek’s eyes glow red in the dim light. A split-second of indecision – torn between taking a step back or forward – is all it takes for Scott to grab his arm and drag him back towards town.

Stiles can’t stop thinking about it, though. All the way back; while sneaking into Lydia’s hospital room, relieved that she’s going to live but confused as to why she appears to not be turning; when getting back home and being grounded for the rest of his life; all Stiles can think about is how meeting Derek’s red eyes had made the world go _quiet_ in a way it hasn’t been since long before his mom died.

~x~

Utilizing his father’s password Stiles spends the next few days searching for leverage. Once one knows what to look for it’s easy to find the connections and soon Stiles has a pile of papers with ten names they’re likely to remember.

Thus armed he logs off, clears his browser history before making his way to his jeep glad his dad’s at work preventing Stiles from having to lie to him. The jeep makes a pitiful noise but does start at the turn of the key and soon he’s off in the opposite direction of Scott’s house.

He’d wish he could say that he’d parked the Jeep and then confidently made his way to the front door, boldly ringing the bell; but truthfully, he parks a few houses down and then spends the next ten minutes taking deep breaths trying to convince himself he won’t be in any danger. Stiles snorts at the thought, once he shows them the papers they’ll know he’ll never side with them; for a second he _almost_ regrets not telling his dad about this.   
Shaking his head at himself - there’s no way he’d put the Sheriff into that kind of danger - Stiles grabs the papers, opens the door and resolutely starts walking.

He rings the bell with far more confidence than he actually feels and draws a breath of relief when it’s Chris Argent opening the door rather than his wife (Stiles isn’t afraid to admit that had it been Victoria confronting him at the hospital he wouldn’t have gotten in her face the way he did Chris, the woman is downright _terrifying_ ).

“Allison’s not home,” is what he says rather than questioning what Stiles is doing at his door. The teenager just shrugs and slips past him forcing the man to close the door and follow him into the living room.

“I’m not here for Allison,” Stiles says once he’s sitting on the couch, “I’m here because I want my friends to be safe.”

When his words aren’t met with anything, but silence Stiles puts the papers he just printed on the coffee table spreading them out so that Chris can see the pictures; as predicted it gets his attention as he moves close enough to take some of them. When he realizes what he’s looking at he falls into the chair across from Stiles; he doesn’t look murderous as Stiles had expected him to - even if it hasn’t been said out loud there’s no doubt the printed pages are a threat - but rather he looks _tired_ and Stiles remembers that Chris has just lost someone presumably close to him. So he keeps quiet - doesn’t offer condolences because she had deserved everything she got and then some - long enough for the hunter to pull himself together.

After several minutes of oppressive silence Chris finally looks up at him warily.

“What do you want, Stiles?”

“Truce,” he simply says.

Stiles had hoped that since Chris believes in the Code it would’ve been easier to come to some sort of agreement, but being a sixteen year old teenager - and especially one who’d never had a reason to do the whole “meet the parents” thing - hadn’t prepared him for the intense dislike a parent can hold towards someone their child has a romantic interest.

However, seeing as Stiles for one: isn’t completely ignorant and two: has watched his fair share of all kinds of movies, he soon realizes that the hunter’s stubbornness has nothing to do with him believing werewolves are evil and everything to do with him thinking Scott iasn’t good enough for his daughter (him being a werewolf definitely plays into it, but it seems Chris’ desire to shoot Scott has more to do with Allison reciprocating his affections and less with him growing fangs and claws).

It took hours but when Stiles left the house it was with the beginnings of a treaty and a date for their next meeting - which would include Victoria, Allison, Derek and Scott - and an agreement that there would be no shooting Allison’s boyfriend. Stiles couldn’t help but chuckle remembering how disappointed Chris had looked but at least he had no doubt the hunter would stick to his word.

Deciding it’s too late to try his luck locating Derek in the preserve Stiles turns Roscoe homewards to cook dinner for him and his dad and trying to come up with a plan for getting the two werewolves in his life to do as he tells them to - somehow, he thinks Scott is going to be far more difficult than the alpha.

~x~

If it had been up to Stiles there’s no way he’d come anywhere near the burnt out house in the preserve - even in daylight it sends chills down his spine - but it’s not as if Derek left any kind of contact information so this is the only place Stiles can think of he might be.

So he carefully looks through what part of the building he thinks can hold his weight all the while calling Derek’s name. He doesn’t see hair nor hide of the guy though and after an eternity he gives up, deciding that even if Derek’s staying here he obviously isn’t home right now. Searching through the Jeep he manages to find a piece of.. it might be paper he decides, and a pen, hastily scribbling a note signing off with his name and number; he’d really rather not have to search through these woods for Derek.

Once done he tries calling Scott, who - predictably - doesn’t answer; instead he makes his way to the hospital to see if Lydia has woken up.

~

She has and - at some stroke of luck - has put Stiles’ name on the list of allowed visitors; he should probably have anticipated the welcome he got.

“What was it?” 

It might be stated as a question, but Stiles isn’t stupid enough to think he could get away with anything less than the truth. He closes the door behind him, drags the chair closer to her bed and starts talking. About werewolves and The Fire, about Laura coming back and Peter killing her; him biting Scott and killing all those people, attacking her and Jackson at the video store and then at prom (he tells her that Jackson saved her, because even though it’s only been days he’s no longer carrying a torch for _the_ Lydia Martin).

He tells her everything he knows, everything he suspects and whatever is left in between and not once does she interrupt with disbelief; and when he’s finally out of words they sit in silence for a few minutes before she asks, her voice shaking a little bit.

“What am I?”

“I don’t know.” He takes a deep breath, would rather not continue this conversation but she deserves to know as much as Scott did when he turned, and Stiles isn’t going to be the douchebag who keeps information from people for laughs or dramatic tension or whatever else dumbass reasons those kind of people might have, so he continues:

“And I don’t know if we’ll find out, but I do know the first person to ask would be the town vet. Deaton.”

She nods, a small smile on her lips and she almost looks like the Lydia he went to prom with, but Stiles can see the fire in her eyes, knows that she’ll get answers where he got riddles and he smiles brightly back and gives her a piece of paper with his number on.

“If you want to talk…” he says, letting the sentence hang in the air for a few minutes before she reaches for her phone, brings the screen to life with a flick of her thumb and shortly after his vibrates with an incoming message. When he opens it he’s met with a simple ‘ _hi <(em>’ and he can’t help the grin on his face; this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship._

__

He leaves her there with a wave and a promise to visit her again the next day.

~

Stiles tries calling Scott but it goes straight to voicemail, so he gets in the jeep and drives home, hoping that Derek’s waiting for him. The alpha isn’t but that just gives Stiles time to eat a few dry slices of toast and then get his google-fu on; he regrets not asking Chris if there’s such a thing as an Argent Beastiary and if there is if he could borrow it. But he didn’t so it’s a moot point and google had been useful before they’d known about werewolves being real, alphas and hunters and whatnot and now Stiles has even more specific answers to look for and a better understanding of what might be real and what isn’t.   
Cracking his knuckles he gets started.

Hours later when it’s dark and his stomach growls in hunger he’s found everything he’s going to right now and a plan is slowly forming in his brain. Before he can act on it his dad’s voice comes from downstairs calling him down for dinner.   
They eat mostly in silence, still too many secrets and lies between them for Stiles to do what he actually wants; which is to crawl onto his dad’s lap and tell him everything that has happened since he went searching for half a body. But Stiles doesn’t, can’t put his dad in that kind of danger and so the silence stretches between them until the sheriff stands with a groan, ruffles Stiles’ hair and then goes to bed. It’s a few hours before Stiles follows and by then he’s made a decision.

~

For some reason Stiles manages to sleep the entire night away and he’s up ten minutes before his alarm sounds, giving him plenty time in the shower and still eat breakfast. It still means he’s a little late for school, but he’s relaxed, and endorphins are still coursing through his veins making him smile at everybody and nothing. It’s a glorious morning.   
At least until he runs into Jackson who proceeds to be even douchier than usual and when he saunters away Stiles follows him with narrowed eyes.

Not having super senses himself he puts it out of his mind until he can get Scott to confirm or disprove his theory and goes about his day as he’d normally would, though he does text Lydia a few times to let her know what she’s missing out on (not much) and if she wants him to pick up her homework (she does; he’s a little ashamed when she doesn’t tell him which classes she has besides the ones they share).

Last class of the day is Chemistry with Harris but thankfully Scott’s already seated when Stiles comes through the door. He plops into his seat and leans in.

”Jackson’s an ass”

It startles Scott enough that the dopey smile falls off his face, and he turns giving Stiles an incredulous look clearly wondering why this is news. Stiles’ hand does something complicated in the air before he leans even closer and lowers his voice as much as possible.

”More than usual,” Stiles explains. “I think he’s turned.”

Scott still looks doubtful, but he dutifully flares his nostrils then shrugs; he can’t pick up anything other than the smell of teenagers and hormones and he really did not need to know a lot of what his nose is currently telling him. He doesn’t have the time to yell at Stiles, though, as Mr. Harris choses that moment to enter the room and start handing out a pop quiz. Scott groans silently, there’s no way he’s going to be able to answer any of these questions.

Just because Scott thinks Jackson smells the same as ever it doesn’t mean Stiles can’t keep an eye on the jock. He only half heartedly answers the questions on the paper trying to listen in on Jackson on Danny’s whispers. Halfway through Jackson suddenly runs out the door and despite everything inside Stiles is itching to follow he stays in his seat to avoid trouble, trying to telepathically tell Scott to try and listen to see if he can figure out what’s happening.

It turns out not to be a power Stiles possesses but before he can get angry with Scott he notices the black drops at Jackson’s seat. Stiles recognizes them instantly and without as much as a wave in Scott’s direction he’s making his way towards the toilets; it seems like the most likely place to find his wayward classmate.   
Imagine his surprise when he finds not only Jackson but Derek, too, the two of them with panic written all over their faces. Jackson’s the first to recover as he sees Stiles in the mirror and before as much as a single word can be said he’s shouldering his way past them. Knowing there’s nothing to do for Jackson, Stiles stands his ground facing of Derek rather than go after the other boy; there might be a flicker of surprise crossing the alpha’s face but when Stiles looks closer he’s back to his usual angry blankness – he has no idea how Derek pulls off that particular mix but he does.

”We need to talk. It would’ve been better to do so _before_ biting the douchiest douchebag to ever douche,” Stiles briefly wonders if that even makes sense before deciding it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. Besides, Derek looks like he’s about to open his mouth and argue and that way lies either madness or death, two things Stiles would very much prefer to avoid.

”Zip it, Sourwolf. I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen and then do as I say.” He grabs Derek’s wrist and drags him out of the toilet, not really caring about the students in the hallways or if anybody has heard something incriminating. He’s thankful for Scott having already left in search of Allison, he can’t really deal with his friend’s open hostility towards Derek right now.   
Derek follows without fight, gets into Roscoe’s passenger seat and patiently waits for Stiles to get into his own seat, fiddle with the gear and the pedals before making his way out of the school parking lot. They don’t speak nor does Derek protest when Stiles pulls up in front of his own house, he just gets out of the Jeep and then waits by the front door; his body tense but not radiating anger or distrust.

Stiles starts with Lydia because that’s the easiest, the part less likely to make Derek rip out his throat; the alpha nods in agreement when Stiles tells him he’d sent her to pick Deaton’s brain. Telling Derek about his research is more difficult but the longer Derek lets him speak without growling or disagreeing the more his confidence grows and his voice becomes steadier; he ends his speech with names and a few papers upon which he’s written a little about them. Derek takes them silently, nods and – apparently thinking that’s all Stiles has to say – jumps out the window and is gone before Stiles can call him back.

He decides to give the alpha a little space to think things through before pestering him about the Argents and with a sigh he pulls out his homework.   
The text ticks in at two in the morning a simple “house after school” and Stiles sends back an affirmative before falling back asleep.

**~II~**

Derek is a rock at Stiles’ left side, lava hot in the chill air but unmoving, tension written in every line of his body – relaxed to the casual observer, however, Stiles is anything but – and his face an icy blank mask; Stiles has seen brick walls looking more alive than his alpha currently is. Scott, at his right, is busy looking at Allison with cartoon hearts in his eyes, ignorant to the glares her parents are sending his way and the tension in the air.   
Stiles wants to hit his head against the table before yelling at the heavens in despair while cursing _every single one_ of the life choices he’s ever made that has lead his to this exact moment.

But, he’s the reason they’re here: The alpha werewolf and the hunters whose family is responsible for the demise of the former’s. And Stiles is very well aware how much he owes Derek – for digging up his sister and then accusing him of her murder – and even if he didn’t by now he’s in too deep, cares too much, to let this chance slip through his fingers.   
A small hand clamps down on his nape, the flowery scent of Lydia’s perfume hitting his nostrils and he immediately calms, remembers that he isn’t alone, isn’t supposed to carry this conversation alone and she has his back the way Derek should - but that Stiles doesn’t begrudge him being incapable of.

She wasn’t supposed to be here (they may not yet know what she is exactly, though they do know she’s not a werewolf) but when Stiles had first told Derek that he’d gone to see Chris and had made arrangements for them all to meet and make a treaty, Derek had almost gone feral with rage, had screamed and howled and clawed at everything until his hands were bleeding and tears and snot were streaming down his face.   
At that point Stiles had slowly moved closer and once close enough he’d wrapped his arms around the wolf. He’d sagged bonelessly against Stiles - as if he was a puppet that had gotten its strings cut - the sudden deadweight taking him by surprise causing them to tumble to the floor, Stiles landing on his back and Derek with his face against Stiles chest. They’d lied there for hours, Derek silently crying himself to sleep and Stiles hands stroking soothingly up and down his broad back.   
When Derek woke Stiles had suggested bringing Lydia to the meeting – the girl was smarter than Stiles and would never cower before the likes of Chris or Victoria Argent – and Derek had agreed faster than Stiles had thought possible. Getting Lydia to do the same had simply been a matter of asking.

Pulling himself from his thoughts Stiles focuses back in on the conversation just in time to hear Lydia deliver their final demand. Getting Chris and Victoria to agree to Scott’s and Allison’s continued dating takes almost as long as the rest of the negotiations lasts, and it isn’t until Derek opens his mouth and promises that if Scott ever steps out of line he’ll deliver him at their doorstep himself.   
They leave the abandoned building where they’d held the negotiations in two cars - even Scott knew it was better to let the Argents come to terms with their daughter dating a werewolf, so Lydia drives him home while Derek slides into Roscoe’s passenger seat once more.

They’re halfway to the preserve before the alpha opens his mouth.

”I think you’re right,” he opens with making Stiles wonder what he’s talking about. “About Jackson being a mistake,” Derek continues and sighs. Stiles reaches over and squeezes his knee reassuringly. They’re silent for the rest of the drive but when Derek gets out of the car he looks Stiles in the eyes, the shadow of a smile hovering at the edge of his lips as he utters a quiet _“thank you”_ before getting swallowed by the dark. 

That night sheriff Stilinski gets a call about a disturbance at the cemetery.

~x~

It’s less than two days after the whole treaty debacle - and if Stiles never has to see the two Argents it’ll still be too soon - when he’s once more making his way into the preserve, though this time Roscoe’s bursting with teenagers as Stiles has rounded up some betas for Derek’s pack. Not that any of them _knows_ yet but that’s a problem for future-Stiles and right now he’s busy just hoping Derek’s at the house, otherwise he’ll be in so much trouble, Erica’s already glaring at him.

The jeep’s barely stopped before Derek jumps down the stairs, surprise on his face though Stiles thinks he detects a pleased lilt to his left eyebrow at the sight of them. It doesn’t stop him from barking a gruff “what are you doing here?” which Stiles chooses to ignore seeing as he’s already informed Derek the guy needs a pack and these three could make great betas. Scott, too, obviously, but as he’s already been bitten Stiles has lured his friend here in the hopes that he and Derek can talk things through and become werewolf brothers or something along those lines.   
Stiles might have yet another ulterior motive, but he’ll save that for later.

”Derek,” he says when the silence has stretched far enough. “I’m sure you recognize Erica, Isaac and Boyd and I’m doubly sure you remember every reason for you to consider them your new betas.” Stiles thinks he can smell their confusion so he turns and makes a gesture encompassing both Derek and Scott.

”You know Scott, the broody one with the eyebrows is Derek. They’re mythological creatures of the moon and would like you to join their pack.”

There’s stunned silence and then Erica breaks down in laughter, Boyd moving half a step closer to her as if wanting to protect her from the craziness that is Stiles; Isaac looks like a deer caught in headlights.

”Good one, Stilinski,” Erica wheezes and then she notices Stiles’ offended look and is incapable of saying anything else.

”This is when you flash your eyes, you two,” he directs accusingly at Scott and Derek, the former obediently growling - Derek wants the ground to swallow him, that’s how embarrassing it is - though it’s less than convincing. With a long suffering sigh Derek rolls his head and lets out a howl of his own, preening under the smugness rolling off of Stiles at the others’ schock when they see his face in all of its betashift glory and his eyes a fiery red as they carefully assess the three newcomers.

”As I was saying,” Stiles’ voice is the epitome of smug, “werewolves are walking amongst us, and this is your chance of becoming one.” And on and on he goes, about the shift and pack and the enhanced senses and healing. Derek’s just about to open his mouth when Stiles tells them of the dangers; the chance that they might reject the Bite and die, hunters, the need for secrecy and things Derek hadn’t even thought about.

”Not to mention you’d have to be in Derek’s pack seeing as he’s the head honcho,” Derek growls and flashes his eyes. “And he does that. But fear not, save you from the Eyebrows of Doom I will.”   
At least it breaks the tension and Derek can breathe again, not being suffocated by their fear.

It’s no surprise when Erica’s the first to accept the Bite. If asked Stiles might say he chose her because he cares, but the truth is that here and now he cares more about Derek and due to her illness she’s the easiest to manipulate. He does, however, breathe easier when the Bite takes and her eyes flashes gold in response to Derek’s – there’s no doubt that even if they aren’t now she and the two others will soon be among those Stiles would protect to his final breath.   
It’s only a matter of seconds before Derek has three new betas and they can begin preparing for the full moon.

~x~

To Stiles’ eternal surprise it’s actually fun spending time with Derek and his betas. Scott’s coming around though he still refuses to name Derek his alpha; and while it makes Stiles despair at his friend’s thick-headedness the werewolf shrugs and turns to the other three.

The first order of business is finding them anchors and once that’s done Derek proceeds to teach them how to fight, how to use their senses and how to be a pack. Stiles makes sure to be present as much as possible, soaks up every word out of Derek’s mouth making endless lists of things to research or ask.   
He was right thinking Lydia would have more luck getting answers from the mysterious vet, so he makes her ask him the questions Derek can’t – or won’t – answer. Stiles even makes it back at the Argent house asking them if they have a beastiary. Victoria slams the door in his face (Stiles is grateful she didn’t slam her fist in it first, she’d looked positively dangerous) but when he gets back later Chris just hands over an old looking book not a word exchanged between them.   
Sadly most of the thing is written in Latin.

~

The day of the full moon is an ordinary school day like any other. Not so ordinary is the lack of Jackson standing next to Lydia sending Stiles the stink eye as he asks her to help him (rather, have him help her) translating the beastiary; things get even less ordinary when Isaac’s pulled from class by a deputy and as soon as the bell rings Stiles is running towards his locker where Erica and Boyd had agreed to meet him. They’d been able to hear the deputy telling Isaac that his father was dead but other than that they don’t know anything.

Stiles can’t pretend he doesn’t consider the possibility of Isaac actually doing something to his dad – Derek had yelled in anger one day and sent Isaac into the beginnings of a panic attack, prompting the beta to share a little about his home life – but quickly dismisses it again. However, if there’s any proof Mr. Lahey was abusive Isaac is going to be the number one suspect and having him in a cell at the station on the full moon is probably not a good idea. He tells Erica and Boyd to get to the station and make sure Isaac has an alibi, while he and Derek goes to the crime scene to see if there are any clues as to who might’ve done it.

~

Deciding it’s in his best interest not to draw attention to himself right now, Stiles suffers through the rest of the endless school day, thankfully avoiding detention due to Harris being sick and the temp not caring if Stiles keeps whispering to Scott. The afternoon is blessedly free of lacrosse practice so by the time the class ends at three Stiles is one of the first out the door. Not wanting to waste anymore time he bypasses his locker and speed walks out into the parking lot.

He should’ve known but he still lets out a surprised yelp when he notices Derek sitting in Roscoe’s passenger seat, pale like he’d been when Kate had shot him though luckily not as sickly looking. Still, he can’t help but look around, worried hunters are going to show up in the next few seconds. Derek’s hand on his arm and his grunt of _“the moon”_ calms him enough that he gets behind the wheel and takes off towards the Lahey residence.

The freezer is almost enough to convince him that he was wrong earlier. Derek barely spares it a glance – his hands curl into fists and he looks more angry than he has since Kate died, though – as he walks past it, nostrils flaring in search of a different scent. Before Stiles can ask the alpha volunteers the information.

“It smells familiar but... cold. It’s all over the living room and the kitchen where Lahey died but even down here there are faint traces.” Derek stops and squints at the window. “Point of entrance, I think.” He looks to Stiles who nods; there are splinters in the frame and the glass seems a little less dirty some places.   
Derek looks to be in deep thought then he sighs.

“It reminds me of you. Well, _all_ of you.” And with that he gets back up the stairs out of the Lahey house, cell phone in hand as it rings. When Stiles emerges from the building he’s met with Derek’s relieved smile and a simple _“he’s out”_. Stiles watches Derek run towards the part of town with the abandoned building where he and the betas (even Scott) are going to wait out the moon; Stiles gets into Roscoe and drives home, planning what to make for dinner that might get his dad to tell him more than he should.

~x~

Turns out though that for once the sheriff is adamant in not telling Stiles anything; he still eats two steaks to Stiles’ despair and foregoes the vegetables, and when Stiles makes he’s way towards Lydia’s house - he had no idea why she’d told him to come, but there was no way he was going to deny her - he knows no more than he did driving home earlier.

When the jeep comes to a stop there’s a text telling him to just ‘come inside’; he still knocks on the front door because that’s polite but he barely waits for a response before he push down the handle and walks inside. It’s been years since he’s been here so he takes a few seconds to remember where her room is, but as he gets closer he can follow the voices drifting through the air.

Lydia and Allison were making their way through the Argent beastiary. The redhead had confided in them how Jackson had changed after the bite (not that she’d known until Derek confessed to giving him the bite, something she’d been even less impressed with than Stiles had, though her anger was soon replaced by worry when they told her about the confrontation in the toilets). The pack had then tried to distract her but it was obvious she was still concerned, so Stiles had suggested they should try to research, see if there was anything to explain why Jackson hadn’t either changed or died.

So here they were: Stiles, Allison and Lydia; the former leafing through the books Lydia had managed to get from Deaton while the others were slowly translating a paragraph of the beastiary here and a sentence there. It was well past midnight when Lydia inhaled sharply.

”I think I got something,” she says, her finger slowly tracing the words on the page. “A kanima, though born from an alpha’s bite takes not the visage of a wolf but that of a snake like lizard. Unlike the wolf it seeks not a pack but a master.”   
She looks at the other two before they all wordlessly dive for the pile of books on the floor.

They don’t as much fall asleep as they give in to exhaustion and by then they’re all convinced that Jackson’s apparently a kanima and that he may have been what killed Mr. Lahey. Of course the problem is figuring out _who_ (besides Isaac) could want the man dead and how to un-kanima-fy Jackson; they’re not really any closer to an answer when they wake, but at least they have some of the right questions.

Stiles calls Derek who agrees to meet them at Deaton’s and less than an hour later all eight of them are standing at the counter waiting for the vet to finish with his current patient.   
To everybody’s surprise Deaton drops his unhelpful riddles once Lydia starts asking pointed questions telling them everything he knows about kanimas and how to maybe turn them back into werewolves.

”It’s mostly legend,” he explains, “and as those often build on truth it’s quite possible you could still save your friend.” Deaton then unlocks the drawers, sifts through a bunch of vials and jars before picking a few, handing one to Stiles and the others to Allison.   
”Mountain ash will keep it contained, Mr. Stilinski; I’m sure you’ve come across its use in some of the books you’ve read. The important thing is to believe.” Stiles, who’d been about to open the jar hurries to screw the lid back on before he accidentally poison any of the werewolves in the room.

Deaton ignores him and continues: “That’s ketamine, it _might_ be able to knock the kanima out; hopefully long enough to either change him back or dispose of him.” The vet ignores their stunned silence, just opens the door and motions for them to leave.

~x~

Finding Jackson takes three days and it’s not even one of the people with enhanced senses who finds him.   
Roscoe had needed a checkup so Stiles had brought the jeep to the usual mechanic and while there had seen something long and scaly; tail-like; and he’d immediately sent the pack, Lydia, Allison and Scott a SOS-text. Then he’d hurried to throw mountain ash at it while _believing_ which apparently was good enough to stop the kanima in its tracks. A quick examination of the mechanic proved him to still be alive and Stiles could only hope he was just a bit unconscious and paralyzed rather than in a coma or anything worse.

Then the others showed up and while they were debating what to do Lydia stepped closer to the reptile, something metal in her hand catching its gaze. If Stiles managed to live until he was hundred he still wouldn’t understand how a key was enough to make Jackson reconcile with his past (it hadn’t made sense when Lydia translated it, nor when Deaton said it in plain English) but seeing him sprout sideburns and flash blue eyes made it clear he was finally a wolf.   
It was perhaps a bit anticlimactic but Stiles figured that was better than a lot of pointless deaths.

**~III~**

Stiles begins junior year surrounded by pack and wrapped in his alpha’s warm scent.

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> In the not so distant future (Stiles won't stay 17 forever) he and Derek are going to go through the kama sutra, or Stiles' porn collection - maybe even both
> 
> I reblog things on [tumblr](https://theydraggedmein.tumblr.com/) if you wanna say hi


End file.
